Page 17 of Flint's Battle

He groaned against her ear, trying not to simply thrust into her until he came. “Jesus, Emery.”

Was she breathing? Had she just cursed under her breath? Had he been too rough? Entered too quickly? He wasn’t exactly small, and fuck, she was tight. Like a vise clamped around him, making his vision dim at the edges.

He tried to rein in all that heat— check-in — when she bit his shoulder muscle.

“Flint, move.”

Hell yeah, he’d move.

A scoot of her ass farther off the counter and she was tilted back — perfectly aligned for what he had a mind. A tentative slide out then a thrust back in to assure she really was ready, then he was moving. Pounding into her with all the pent-up energy from the takedown and watching her unravel in his arms.

Emery threw back her head, opening up the long line of her neck. He took advantage, nipping at her skin, then sucking the pulse point. Leaving a small blemish on her flesh like some randy teenager. But he needed a visual reminder of this moment. The claim he couldn’t voice out loud.

The love bite only set her off more. Had her screaming his name or maybe it was the word, “Yes”. Either way, she tried to drag him closer, pressing her fingers into his back. Probably leaving little crescent-shaped marks on his skin from her nails.

Which only spurred him faster. Thinking she wanted to claim him, too. That she was so far gone, only the primitive side of her brain was still working. She managed to get her heels notched in the small of his back — meet each thrust with a roll of her hips.

That pushed him over. The increased pressure. Knowing she was right there with him. Reveling in his loss of control as much as he was.

He cupped her ass in one hand, tangling the other in her hair. Gripping her head so he could ravage her mouth. Have every inch of them touching as he increased his pace until the fire burning down his spine took him over — had him emptying into that damn condom.

He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, everything blurring into a numbing haze. He came back to himself with her body crushed against his, only half her ass still on the counter. He had his mouth on her shoulder, his breath fluttering her hair as he tried to pull in enough oxygen to clear the dots — stop the room from spinning.

Emery clung to him, her chest still heaving. Her rasping pants echoing through the room. She didn’t try to pull away, shaking her head when he twitched. “Not yet. I…”

He chuckled, finding the strength to twist his head enough he could look down at her. Sweat beaded her forehead, her eyes squeezed shut. A deep pink hue colored her skin, her mouth curled into the beginnings of a smile.

He dropped a gentle kiss on her nose, smiling when she blinked several times before staring up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Barely any of the green visible.

“You okay?”

She snorted, still holding him tight against her. “Not sure. Ask me again when I can feel my toes.”

She levered up — kissed him. Not soft and gentle the way he thought she would. This was desperate. Raw. As if he’d only scratched the surface.

He took his cue from her, kissing and biting until he was dying to have her again. Not in an hour or the morning. Now. Because once hadn’t been nearly enough.

Emery finally pulled back, sucking in air as she met his gaze. And if he’d thought she was gorgeous before, she was devastating, now. All that tawny-colored hair wild about her face. Her lips kiss-swollen. She nipped at his chin, laving the small hurt before getting impossibly closer. “That was…”

Her eyelids fluttered as she took a few more gasping breaths. “Do you still think you have enough strength for another round, because I’m thoroughly wrecked.”

Flint chuckled. “I could use a shower, but I assure you, the night’s just started. So, hold on… the ride’s about to get bumpy.”

CHAPTER 6

He was serious.

Emery inhaled as Flint eased out, quickly disposing of the condom before gathering her in his arms — lifting her up. She wasn’t sure how he didn’t just drop her, as he strode purposely toward the hallway. What he’d surmised was the way to her bedroom.

She hadn’t been joking. She was spent. Her limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds and if her heart pounded any harder, it might burst right through her chest. Like in the cartoons she used to watch as a kid, leaving a heart-shaped hole. What would become a reality if he decided this really was a one-off. That one night would be enough.

Twenty years’ worth of nights wouldn’t be enough for her. Hell, sixty seemed like the sheer minimum to consider close to anything resembling enough.

Hadn’t Flint said something like that earlier in the night? That enough didn’t exist where she was concerned? She’d brushed it off at the time, but it was hitting home, now. How in the space of an evening he’d become a habit she wasn’t sure she could break. Like some junkie addicted to his taste. His touch.

Not that she hadn’t been crushing on him for the past month. But seeing him in action — having him take two bullets for her, even if one was in his vest — had altered her perception. Made her realize she’d fallen for the man beneath the rugged good looks and muscular frame. That it was the warrior in him that had caught her attention. A sense of honor she’d recognized from the start that went so much deeper than his sexy smile.

Flint moved along the hallway, still carrying her as if it were nothing. No jostling, no repositioning, just her body snugged against his. Her arms wrapped around his neck. And she had to admit, being carried was deliciously intimate. Feeling his heart beat next to hers. How his muscles flexed as he walked. It was definitely something she could get used to.

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